


I love You

by Periwinkle_paulie



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: 50s Greasers, Band Fic, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Music, Musicians, One Shot, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-13 19:55:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20588186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Periwinkle_paulie/pseuds/Periwinkle_paulie
Summary: Paul gets really drunk, but on the way home he confesses his love for John.





	I love You

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for one of my classes so I apologize if it appears a bit choppy or if my writing is extra fancy (:

John figured that Paul would want to go back to the hotel eventually. He had to get tired soon, even if he did want to hang around the pub for hours on end. Paul could barely stand, he was swaying back and forth, which was most likely a result of all the alcohol in his system. John rolled his eyes because he knew Paul would end up getting like this, and he even warned Paul that it was probably going to happen the way John interpreted. Still, Paul was never willing to listen to him. Paul always knew best. Paul did what he wanted, and John could not do anything that could easily prevent that.

They were in a muggy bar, smelling of sweat from their gigs from earlier, and they had to look greasy from all the gel they had in their hair. The thought of dragging Paul out of the bar admittedly weaseled its way into John's mind. He even contemplated slapping Paul across his pretty face, but would that help get Paul outside faster? No. He was already drunk, and worse, he was an emotional drunk; Lord only knew what would not trigger Paul.

John was willing to let Paul tire himself out. However, that quickly became a figment of his imagination when Paul was close enough that John could perk his ears up and hear the way he was speaking. Paul's words were slurred, and he was practically choking on his own spit because of how out of it he happened to be. Like a bull appalled by the infamous red ribbon, John hurried towards Paul, luckily catching him before Paul's head made contact with the edge of a marbled counter.

"Macca?" John asked, worried, hoping out of all his being that his idiotic friend happened to be okay.  
Of course, Paul couldn't speak, now what was John thinking? Now that was simply an obscure thought. A thought of hope, he inquires.

With his hand supporting the curve of Paul's bony hip, he helped the boy outside- or at least as best as he could, most of Paul's being was laying on John's shoulder for support- and started their walk back to their hotel room, which had to be a good mile away. John wished that he could have just driven them back, but they insisted on walking because they actually made it on their agenda to get roaring drunk. As it pans out, however, it was evident who really understood that privilege.

John snapped out of his thoughts when a flimsy Paul interrupted them. Paul was tripping over his untied shoelaces, however, since John was there supporting him, he only halfway fell, his shoe slipping off and landing into the mud puddle that Paul was too stunned even to comprehend its presence. Paul incoherently mumbled something, to which John rolled his eyes and instead focused his interest on finding that shoe that had fallen off of Paul's foot. Once he retrieved it, he decided to help Paul take off his other shoe, and scooped Paul up into his arms when he figured that Paul was too unstable to walk.

The dark enveloped Paul's soft features, but the orange lighting of the streetlights helped collect a gentle curve instead of a rough edge. The warmth of the streets complimented Paul's otherwise ivory skin; his eyelashes curled as they peered up at John through a glossy, hazel gaze, lips opened just slightly to allow a pink tongue to peek through them. Even for a mess, Paul looked absolutely stunning, and John couldn't help the little smile that curled on his lips at the appearance of Paul's messy curls.

John didn't realize he was staring until Paul spoke up, but the words that left Paul's mouth were quick to warm John's heart and make the butterflies tickle his stomach.

"I love you." Paul murmured through that stupid slur in his tone, a giggle leaving plump, glittery lips that were so close that John wanted to kiss so severely a dozen times before. What did they taste like? Were they soft and supple like Paul's chubby face, or were they prim and proper like Paul's dolly-like eyelashes?

"You what, baby-doll?" John responded, the signature crooked smile causing Paul's already flustered cheeks to flush just a bit more.

"I love you," Paul spoke again, a grin causing dimples to print in his cheeks. John saw so much love and affection flash in Paul's honey eyes, but that was only a plus because John swore he saw the whole world in Paul's gaze. John knew that Paul was merely drunk, but… Drunks are always more honest, right? "I love you so much, Johnny." He whispered, the tone causing John's shoulders to slightly jolt in the effect of him getting lost in thought again, but Paul was able to calm them down with his docile touch. The sweet coolness of his fingertips wrapped around the base of John's shoulder blades, but Paul was so warm that the contact didn't bother him too much.

"I love you more than just a mate, y' know?"

John didn't know how such a petite, dainty boy could take up his whole heart. The fact that Paul might return those feelings made John absolutely ecstatic. Before John could get another word out, he felt a sudden weight on his shoulder. When John peered down, he saw Paul's eyelashes dusted over his cheeks' apples, a stupid little smile splayed all over his mouth. It was like Paul knew that he was leaving John to dawn on the fact that Paul had blatantly exposed all the love his heart flourished for John. Paul had fallen asleep, and by God, was it the sweetest thing John had ever witnessed. John gently nosed at Paul's bangs, baring the boy's forehead so he could press a tender, gentle kiss to it.

With Paul's soft snores and the crickets chirping, the walk back to the hotel was peaceful. John was content. He couldn't recall a much better feeling than now, with Paul curled up in his arms, the gentle embrace that Paul had on him; however, it was still tight enough to reel John back in for that warm affection he so desperately craved.  
Paul was his everything.


End file.
